Dumbledore's Army
by Xuqra
Summary: Everything Harry thinks about leads back to the veil, or does it? Why is he always thinking about something, or someone else?
1. Morning Thoughts

Chapter 1: Morning Thoughts

He sat at the shabby desk, his hands carefully scrawling letters on a piece of parchment. His hand was shaking a bit as he finally signed his name on the bottom; the letter contained a short amount of text about how he was feeling and what he had been thinking about, most of which was excluded the excruciating pain he was going through. He glanced over the long letter again; he rolled the scroll up and proceeded to coax the beautiful white owl from its gilded cage. Once the letter was securely tied to the owl's leg he gave the animal a pet and whispered, "Take it quickly to Hermione. Remain there with her, she seems a bit sad to not to be seeing me. Maybe your stay will brighten her mood."

The owl nipped his finger lovingly, and hopped to the window sill and flew off into the night. Hermione, he thought as he watched the night, was his only correspondence this summer and that would end soon; Hermione had plans to go on vacation with her parents for the rest of summer. Somewhere that he couldn't send his owl, a muggle resort of some kind but it didn't matter; he was happy that she was going to be getting out and having fun, though he dearly wished he could go with her. When he thought about it, his stomach tingled a bit, he felt uneasy about the situation; he pushed it out of his mind though, thinking about her would only lead to pain.

He often sat and thought in his room like this, since he didn't have much else to do. The Dursley's didn't seem to want to make him do chores, in fact, they had barely even talked to him; when he had come home they didn't call him for dinner, instead they just pushed a note under his door that said he could eat anything in the fridge but he had to make it himself. The boy didn't mind this situation at all, he knew how to cook and he the he preferred not having any company, of their type at least. Any interaction with them would lead to thinking about family, or the family he didn't have. Thinking about that family would lead to thinking about Sirius, thinking about that, well: that's just pain. There he was again, in pain, his stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"I've got to focus on this," he struggling to push his thoughts and fears away. He slowly cleared his mind of everything except the darkness. The darkness slowly turned into the darkness of the veil, but once he recognized it he lay down on the hard floor; if he couldn't clear his mind he would work his body to exhaustion, using sit-ups he forced everything out of his mind. After he thought he was significantly prepared to sleep he slowly walked to the bed. He had a funny feeling that tonight wasn't going to be easy, the night continued as usual with a little tossing and turning.

The next morning he woke yelling, his scar was burning hot and there was nothing he could do about it. His mind cleared enough for him to stop screaming, and he was able to look at the clock. Early, he knew had it been any other summer he would have been in trouble but nothing seemed to affect his life on privet drive anymore. When his scar had settled down he got up and paced around the cluttered room, he didn't mind the arrangement. The broken toys and electronics only seemed to spur his desire to get out of there every morning and go for a run. Running had turned into a full exercise every morning, he knew that it was good for him to get out and exercise but he never thought about the affects on his body. He had become very lean and muscular, but when he was wearing the baggy pants and shirt his cousin handed down to him, you would have never noticed. Once he was dressed his white owl had returned from Hermione's, it bore a letter written in neat hand cursive.

He grinned as he pet the bird, feed it and sent it back off to Hermoine's, there was no need to write back. The note said that she might get to see him sooner than both had thought, but nothing of what she meant. Such information could not be transferred by mail, he had found that out last year when his bird was attacked by the cruel woman.

Umbridge, how could he forget that evil woman, he thought as he started his jog around the block. Hermione would probably tell him off later for worrying about her, there was that feeling again in his stomach. It kind of reminded him of how he felt around Cho, he thought as he had rounded the swing sets and proceeded to the monkey bars. Why was he thinking about Cho again? His mind never seemed to keep track of his tangents anymore, but his focus on the pull ups he was now doing never failed to distract him from the ever perpetuating pain. Thinking about Cho, made him think about Cedric, and thus Voldemort, then Sirius; everything came back to that stupid decision he had made last year. It was entirely his fault, if he had listened to Hermione, Sirius would still be alive. There he was again, thinking about Hermione; He wondered if she thought about him this much while they were apart.

Dawn was just breaking when he was getting back to four, privet drive, and the relatives would be just waking. Sure enough he heard the shower going as he walked swiftly past is Uncle and Aunts room to his own. Starting his set of push-ups in the only clear area of the room, he tried to concentrate on what today had in store for him. Dumbledor had previously written him expressing his concern about the ever increasing frequency of pain at his scar, but he just felt that it was about something else. He would be meeting him at Ms. Figg's house of cats, a place he had never enjoyed going to but found it slightly more appeasing now that he knew that she was a squib.

Later: he checked his watch several times on his short walk to the Figg's house; he was still dreading the hundred or so cats that Ms. Figg took care of. He had planed on arriving early, but his morning thoughts had extended his shower a bit longer than usual, and he was rushed to gather parchment, a quill and his wand. When had had finally arrived at the door, he was greeted by her familiar face and ushered quickly inside. The familiar odor of cats infiltrated his senses and he sneezed, he hated being there. She offered him a cup of tea, but led him into the quiet living room where three people stood, waiting for them.

"Harry!" he heard a girl squeal, as he was rushed by a mass of chestnut hair that smelled of sweetly of oranges. Her head rested on his shoulder, he felt her sob lightly as if she was crying. She was crying, he wondered about why she was there and what had happened; he nervously looked at the other two people, his red-headed best friend and the elderly Professor Dumbledor stood awaiting his presence.


	2. House Visit

Ch 2: House Visit

There was that tingling feeling again, what was it? He couldn't quite place his finger on it before he looked into the eyes of the headmaster. Dumbledor was oddly quiet; his crystal eyes glistened as a tear slowly slid down his aged cheek, "Harry. It is time to listen to an old man again."

Ron coughed, his face beat red and a look of envy on his face as Harry stroked her back. Hermione pulled away for a second, but instantly buried her face in his chest again; Harry's stomach was insatiable, he didn't feel like he would be able to stand there much longer as he petted her hair. Dumbledor signaled for him to sit down, and Harry noticed the plush purple chair behind him now; he slowly lowered himself down dragging Hermione with him, as she sat she curled up in his arms.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the ministry has acknowledged the existence of Voldemort now and has begun to prepare. Unfortunately it has come too late, and several people have been struck out against." Hermione sobbed especially hard at the last bit of information; Harry knew what had happened now, but he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't really have done that could he?

"I'm sure the pain in your scar has been a result of him using the killing curse, Harry." Dumbledor's eyes didn't have the sparkle in them they had but a few minutes ago, "the targets haven't been… well they were specifically chosen." Harry looked down at the whimpering girl in his arms; no, it couldn't have been her parents could it? It was all because he let her come with him to the Department of Mysteries, then again he didn't even need to have gone. Damn, he thought about Sirius again; the tingling feeling had all but stopped the sorrow overwhelmed him; damn it! Why hadn't he listened to this girl who was in his lap, and just then she choose to look up at him through her tear stained face.

Dumbledor had continued to talk to them, but Harry had stopped listening and was intently staring into the soft cinnamon eyes. Her gaze unbroken as he softly pushed a strand of hair from her face, tucked it behind her ear; her eyes still watering, as a tear rolled down her face, but he wiped it away with his thumb. He couldn't feel his stomach at all now; then again he couldn't feel his fingers as they touched her thick hair. "… with you for the rest of summer," Dumbledor continued.

"What?" Ron yelled, but Dumbledor didn't look at him. He was staring intently on the two in the chair, who had looked up at the outburst. "I thought she was going to be coming back to the Burrow." He was now up in arms, pacing back and forth in front of the two teenagers, "Hermione where do you want to go? You want to stay at the Burrow, right?"

What? What was going on, Harry thought. Hermione looked up at Ron for a moment, as if analyzing his red hair and bright freckles, then looked back at Dumbledor. He nodded, and she looked back at Harry then back to Ron. What was going on? What was Ron trying to say? I thought I would be going to the Burrow as well, what's the problem?

She looked back at Harry, as if pondering a hard decision, her eyes slowly drifted down to her hands that were resting on his chest. She smiled, she simply light up the room but just to him; when she looked back at him her smile had faded, but she turned to Ron and clumsily stood up. He looked as if he had won, but she lightly kissed his cheek and then sat back down in Harry's arms hiding her face eyes from what would happen next. He's going to lose it, Harry thought and just as he did Ron began to throw a fit; He was yelling and crying and shaking as he headed into the other room. Ms. Fig swiftly followed him hoping that she could prevent him from breaking anything of hers.

Dumbledor smiled at Harry, as if to say 'he will get over it' but he knew it would be a difficult road for him. A loud pop behind the elderly man, and there was a woman in her late forties in a red robe and her blondish hair pulled tightly into a bun atop her head. "Ah, Professor. You have brought her things, I hope?" Dumbledor asked not looking away from the two teenagers who sat staring into each others eyes.

"I have; Potter, Ms.Granger shall we depart for the house. It won't be easy to convince your relatives to take her in." She walked in front of the headmaster as they all stood up, and headed towards the door. Hermione looked back at the headmaster, dropping Harry's hand she quickly walked back to him and gave him a hug that he delicately returned.

"Be good my dear," he said softly as she let go; her eyes taking in the double meaning that the twinkle in his eye suggested. She only nodded as another tear began to form at the corner of her eye, but the headmaster wiped it away this time and she turned and walked back to Harry and the now cat professor. They silently walked down the road to the Dursley's, hand in hand like best friends not looking a anything but the ground. When Harry opened the door to let Hermione and the cat into the house they were greeted by Vernon Dursley.

The portly man stood tall and looked furious at the girl who was now standing in the living room, "What is the meaning of this BOY?"

In the second it took for the man to round on Harry, the professor had transformed from the cat back to her tall stern stature. The man was taken aback at the transformation, but his brow quickly furrowed and he moved towards the woman now. She just put up her hand and he stopped, "I shall make this short and to the point. Harry and Hermione will be staying with you until Harry's birthday in a month; until the time in which we pick them up, you shall provide for them and keep them safe. And give them peace."

The stern chill in her voice made even Harry scared to say anything to her, but when she turned to leave he gave the two a weak smile and enlarged the trunk with Hermione's things on the floor. With a pop, she was gone and the two young teenagers were left with an angry Vernon to deal with. He gave them one last look, before stroking his mustache as he walked away. Nothing is as simple as it seems, Harry thought as he picked up the trunk and carried it up the steps to his room with Hermione in tow.

* * *

"Albus, you know that they'll be staying in the same room. Possibly even the same bed?" the professor asked after she had reappeared in the office where Dumbledor sat looking into a bowl of shimmering water. "What if something were to happen?"

"What my dear," he paused swirling the liquid, "makes you think that's not exactly what I want?" He smiled as he looked up at the professor.

A/N: I know that the writing style is a little different. I've been thinking about how to make my style a bit more interesting, and I know that it doesn't follow the standards of writing. If you look at JKR's books though, you'll notice she doesn't follow any kinds of standards either, in fact most great authors don't really follow the rules of writing. Not that I'm good at writing or anything, just a thought.


	3. Waking Up

Ch. 3: Waking Up

He hadn't been sure what had woken him up, but he was now feeling a lot of pain in he scar and the back of his head. Somehow he had fallen asleep in the hardwood chair at his desk and in waking he had fallen backward onto the unpadded floor; why had he fallen asleep in his chair anyway, he thought through the stinging pain?

He gently rubbed the back of his throbbing head, wincing at the new shocking pain that had arisen. Then he felt another set of hands on his head pushing away the hair looking at his skull, he whipped his head around to see her. Her face was contorted in pain and worry but her beautiful cinnamon eyes were looking right into his now and he couldn't look away. Beautiful eyes, that's what they certainly were his stomach started to tingle again but something was different. The mixture of pleasure and pain pushed him over the edge; he quickly searched for the trash can near him and relieved himself of his unsettling stomach. He must have been bloody dreadful to watch right then, he thought.

She reached out and touched his back; her hand was soft on his bare skin. Why wasn't he wearing a shirt? His cheeks were a little pink as he relieved his stomach a bit more, spitting into the trash bin. When he had finally finished she looked at him still with a worried expression, and he knew that he wasn't helping how she must have been feeling. The pain had slowly subsided, but now the embarrassment slipped in, "I'm sorry Hermione. I don't know what came over me, just suddenly felt sick."

She shook her head, and he noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. How had she taken him vomiting after looking into her eyes? Did she think that it was because of her, or because there was too much stress in his life? He knew it was a mixture of both, but how could he ever tell her about the wonderful sensation in his stomach? He gently wiped away her tear with a hand which hadn't gotten anything on it, and he smiled at her.

"Are you going to speak to me?" he hesitated in asking, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out. Another tear trickled down her cheek before he wiped it away as well; he pulled her close to him and shoved the foul smelling bucket away. "It's okay. I'm here for you to talk to me whenever you're ready."

She sobbed into his shoulder again, and they sat for a while with Hermione curled up between Harry's legs and her face buried in his neck. When she had finally stopped he looked at her face and noticed she was asleep again; their talk would have to wait. He stood and picked her up gently, he was unsure at first of his own strength but the workouts had built him. He placed her on the bed, and pulled the covers back over her when he finally noticed that she was wearing his oversized shirt and a pair of shorts; he grinned thinking how cute she looked but quickly pushed it out of his head as he headed for the shower. A nice cold shower he thought, maybe he would wake up from this dream.

He had gotten out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, expecting to go back into his room and realize that Hermione was not there and that he was just imagining the whole situation. There was that annoying feeling in his stomach again, he thought as he pushed open the door to his room which held the witch still lying on his bed. She had rolled over and was now staring at him with wide eyes, and her eyes traveled up and down the nearly naked boy before her and she was smiling. He hadn't seen her smile but once since Ms. Figg's house, and did it make his heart jump. Jump? Had he just described his heart jumping at the sight of his best friend? Was she checking him out? What could possibly be going on in her mind, he thought. Hmm, this would be difficult as he looked around for clothes; her eyes follow his every move.

"I'm going to go change in, umm… the bathroom. I'll be back in a second, and then you can shower if you like. I usually go running in the morning, helps me keep my mind off…" Harry trailed off as he looked away, when he looked back she nodded slowly. He walked off cursing himself for making already thinking about Sirius when he knew that she was dealing with something much worse. He cringed as he finished getting dressed, how was he going to handle all this?

When he had returned to the room she was prepared to take a shower, a few things in her hand as he lead her to the bathroom that he used. He had shared it with Dudly the summer before, but his dear cousin was away for the week. He found a towel for her to use and handed it to her but didn't leave yet. She set the towel on the stool and turned the water on and adjusted it; she was about to pull off the shirt when she turned around and looked at Harry.

"Oh, right." He said blushing. He hit his head with his hand as he quickly walked out of the bathroom. He had begun he routines of push-ups and sit-ups; thinking Hermione probably wouldn't want to do them but she might go for a jog. As he was finishing a set the door had opened and he looked around to face Hermione, and it was his turn to gawk as she blushed. She was wearing a pair of very short shorts, and a tight fitting top. "You're looking good," he tried to say nonchalantly, he hadn't even noticed his eyebrows arch as she looked away. Her mouth opened again but no words came out, so she just sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to finish his set.

They had started running from out the door, his pace was much slower than it usually was but Hermione was still struggling to keep up. When they had arrived at the jungle set she was nearly out of breath and Harry couldn't stop looking at her; finally after she had sat down he began a set of pull ups. This must be boring for her to watch, he thought as he finished his fourth set; she had been intently watching him since he started, watching his muscles flex as he pulled himself up to the bar and then slowly descend.

"You want to go change?" he asked her when they arrived back at the house, she was out of breath yet again but she slowly nodded her head. "Alright, I'll go make us some breakfast and then we can figure out what we're going to do today." Harry said, and his hands had found her shoulders, which were softly massaging them; she simply nodded again and bit her lip as she slowly pulled away from his grasp. His eyes followed her to the stairs and she turned around to give him one look before heading up the steps.

What was going on between us, Harry thought as he pulled open the fridge and removed several ingredients for breakfast. He had finished the eggs and bacon before she returned in a looser, sleeveless shirt and a much longer skirt. What could they do today? He usually just sat around and felt pity for himself, but he didn't want her to feel that way. After all, it wasn't her fault… what had happened. They ate in silence; every once in a while one would steal a glance or two at the other. They quickly retreated to Harry's room when Vernon came into the room, looking upset about something. He had grunted at them, barely acknowledging their existence; Harry was used to this but he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they walked up the steps to his room.

He smiled at her again, she may not be talking but damn did it feel good to have her here with him. He chanced another glance at her, she was looking at the ground when he asked, "What do you want to do today?" she didn't respond for a second, but then she opened her mouth again.

She shook her head as if trying to throw something off and looked up into his bright emerald eyes, "I want to…"


	4. Don't Panic

Ch. 4: Don't Panic

She had said, "I want to…" but as quickly as she had said it she stopped. Harry fell to his knees before her, his eyes pleading for her to tell him what she wanted. What is it? Does she finally want to talk about it? Go to the park? Snog… Snog? Now he was thinking like Ron, why would he ever think of something like that while she was in so much pain? She smiled softly as if she knew what he was thinking, and there was that tingling feeling in his stomach again.

When he touched her knee with his hand she briskly looked away, he had only meant to reassure her but now she was more distant than before. Her eyes looked longingly out the window, and then there was the tapping. When he looked to the window he saw the small tawny owl fluttering outside, why did he close the window last night? He straightened his head, gazing at Hermione once more before getting up and walking to the window.

He opened the letter that his friend's owl carried, and quickly read over it. Then he handed it to Hermione so that she could look over it, though she probably wouldn't say anything.

_Dear H n H,_

_I'm sorry how I acted at the other house, I just well you know how I feel Harry and well I was just upset mate. Don't worry though, I'm over it all. I got a letter from some of the DA members wondering how you were and if they should send their regards to… the both of you._

_A couple asked if you wanted to get together over the summer, I said we probably couldn't but I sent a letter to Dumbledore and mum said she'd be fine having a few friends over if it would cheer you two up._

_Well, I'm off to see Luna apparently she wanted to give you two a gift for taking her with you to the… ministry but I told her I'd have to see it first, you know precautions and all._

_Your best mate,_

_Ron_

Ginny probably helped him write it, so he did know how to be a bit subtle, Harry thought. He turned to see her eying the end of the letter carefully, "so how about that? Ron and Luna?" She looked up when he said it, he couldn't make out if it was really a grin or just shock but she quickly turned to the side folding up the note.

He looked at her keenly, what had she wanted to say before this all? She picked up her book and then it occurred to him. He quickly looked around for his paper and parchment and wrote some words onto it, he handed the paper to her and she looked at him quizzically. "We don't have to talk, we have other ways of communicating," he said looking down at the paper.

She smiled at the effort he was putting forth just to talk to her, and she reached for the quill he was offering her. She scribbled a few words and sat with her back against the wall on the bed, she patted the spot next to her and he followed suit. She scribbled a little more and then gave him the note.

_Have you thought about Sirius much? _He looked at her curiously but returned to the note, _I have. I have thought about you every moment since I found out about my parents. I feel ashamed that I didn't think about them more, but I worry about how you are. You are more like family than anything. _He was drawn back by this comment, family? He was family to her?

He looked again into her eyes, the cinnamon orbs studying his face which had just made a sick face. He glanced at her lips and her neck and then there was that tingling feeling again. He began writing, this time when he handed the note back to her and she had read over it; she just stared at him but he was looking away. She began furiously writing again on the parchment but after a few lines she looked up at him, his eyes were intently staring at her face trying to pick out all the emotions she was feeling.

"Harry," she forced the words from her mouth as if it pained her, "that's not what I meant. I wanted to think about them, but with I couldn't. All that came to mind was how much pain you had been through and how you must have felt like this when Sirius died." A pang of pain resounded in his heart; it still hurt to hear other people say that he was dead. She touched his cheek when his face fell, and he looked back up into her eyes, "It is not your fault Harry."

"I thought I was supposed to be comforting you," he said as he pushed a lock of hair out of her face. She was not amused, "I have thought about him a lot, but I've thought about you a lot more. I know its hard for you to understand, but had I listened to you it would have never happened, none of it. Not to Sirius, not to your parents, not to anyone. He would still be in hiding, all because I had to go and screw things up."

"If you hadn't he would still be in hiding yes, but the ministry would also still be ignoring the situation. At least now Voldemort is forced to slow his recruiting and his manipulations for fear of discovery." Hermione reassured him, now her hand was placed on his knee and she smiled looking into his emerald eyes. His hand covered hers as he looked down at the paper, but she quickly stuffed it away into her pocket. "I have my voice, thanks to you. We have no need of this," she paused, "note."

Of course she was right, she always was; if they hadn't gone to the department of mysteries then Voldemort would still be doing what ever he wanted to, and he might have been able to get his hands on the prophecy. He groaned at the thought of it, he had spent most of the summer without thinking about his inevitable destiny. Then he felt her squeeze his hand, he looked up while his stomach tingled again.

"Hermione, there is something I have to tell you." He said sadly looking away from her before continuing, "Dumbledore told me what…"

"Told you what the prophecy was." She had guessed what it was and he nodded, "I was hoping that you would be able to tell me what happened."

"It's scary," he looked into her eyes, unable to look away as he spoke, "I don't want you to panic. I want you to support me and I hope that you will be there for me."

"Of course I will, Ron and I will always be here for you Harry. I will always care very deeply for you," she smiled and squeezed his hand again.

He studied her for another couple moments, not wanting her to revert to her previous state but knowing she wouldn't let him off now without telling her. He sighed as he started telling her about how the prophecy had come about, and when he arrived at what it was he said simply, "I've got to kill him, lest he kill me."

He shivered as he said it, and then she jumped him. Her arms wrapped around him and they were pushed to lying down on the bed by the force of the movement; he had not been expecting this but gently placed his arms around her as she gently began crying into his neck again. 'Damn it, why did I have to tell her? Now how do I tell her that I love her?'

She had stopped crying, she pulled away from him and stared into his eyes, "You love me?"

A/N: I don't know why I stick to this idea that they should hook up, I mean the books hint that it will be R/H, and the movies even more so. I guess I don't hate the idea as much as I used to, I just wish that I knew really what was going to happen. I don't think that Harry should have anyone unless it's Hermione. I just felt like posting this feel free to comment about how you think I'm stupid haha, but I really think it won't work out for my favorite characters.

I think I may change the name of this story and kill it. I don't like how its turning out anymore, and it seems to form too much like other stories I read on here. I hope that you all don't think I'm just copying someone else, because its not on purpose things just seem to slip into your mind when you're writing. We'll see how the next chapter goes before I decide anything. Thanks for reading.


	5. What It Feels Like

Ch. 5: What it feels like

"What? Did I just say that aloud?" she nodded, and he looked away, "I don't know what it is that I'm feeling. I don't know why I said that, I've been thinking about a lot of weird things recently."

She shook her head, "you can't take back what you said." His eyes widened as she gazed into his eyes longingly, as if she wanted to admit something herself. Did she? He couldn't decide what she had meant.

"I don't want to," the funny feeling was in his stomach again. He laughed, would this feeling ever go away? He was intoxicated by the feeling, slowly inching forward towards the beautiful girl he was holding in his arms. He tilted his head, centimeters from her lips; he could feel her warm breath on his face. Am I really going to do this?

"Harry," she whispered slowly. Then their lips touched, but it was only for a second and immediately his scar began burning. The pain caused him to launch himself several feet away, hitting his head hard on the wall. The two pains combined racked his head, he couldn't think straight; he saw the person in front of him but he couldn't make out who it is, who was he just with? Then the blackness settled in, he must have closed his eyes but he couldn't remember closing them.

He felt something warm on his face, and the tingling in his stomach came back to him only stronger. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't understand who or what they were saying. The pain in his head was gone, but he felt so tired now; he couldn't resist the pull of sleep. Soon he had fallen asleep; the warm feeling on his face still hadn't gone away.

When he started feeling the tingling feeling in his stomach again he realized he was lying down. Someone was yelling, no make that two people were yelling at each other. He couldn't make out what they were saying as he slowly stirred, but he could tell that someone had left. He had heard the door slam loudly, but it wasn't the same sound that his bedroom door made; where could he be?

When he was finally able to open his eyes, but still not move his head very much he realized that he was at Grimmold place, in his and Ron's room no less. "'Arry? You're awake? Finally!" He could hear his friend exclaim from the other bed; he must have noticed that his eyes were now open.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked. Ron who was in the process of walking over to him stumbled when he heard this, and looked towards the door.

"Well mate," Ron sighed, "I don't know what to tell you about that girl. She was just in here, demanding to know how you were." He paused looking back to Harry who was now starting to move his hands around a little, "she is blaming herself for whatever happened to you, but…"

"She won't tell you what happened?" Harry immediately knew why, she must have thought that it was the kiss that had sent him flying. Was it? What had made his scar burn so bad?

"Right, so… will you tell me what happened?" Harry was able to start pushing himself to a sitting position.

"I don't know Ron," he looked towards the door, wishing that she would come back. He desperately wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but he didn't even know what it was.

Ron was instantly dejected, he looked angry but calm. He looked towards the door again, "mum will want to know you're awake. She'll bring you some food, I 'spose."

"Right. I'm sorry Ron." Harry said as Ron walked towards the door, he paused for a second and nodded his head not looking back. When he had left the room Harry continued, "I'm sorry for everything, mate."

He had been awake for nearly an hour, and still no sign of the one person he desired to see more than anything. Mrs. Weasley had come baring a bowl of soup and some sandwiches, which Harry ate hungrily as he sat there waiting for his body to recover from whatever this was. She had asked him a few questions, but when he didn't respond she walked out of the room shaking her head. Even Ginny had come to see him since Ron left, but she didn't stay long; he could tell she knew he wasn't interested in talking to anyone.

Harry heard an owl banging on the window to the room, and suddenly Ron came bursting in to let the poor owl out of the rain. It was raining? He could barely even hear the sounds coming from this window as his friend untied the letter from the bird. "Whose it from?" Harry questioned.

Ron looked at his and hesitated, "it's from Luna. She's the only one that talks to me anymore." With that he was gone again, and Harry had never felt so miserable. The girl he loved thought that it was her fault that he was in pain, not that there was much pain anymore anyway. His best friend was pissed at him; what the bloody hell was he supposed to do. He couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom, and no one was around to help him; damn them, he thought, I'll do it myself.

A/N: I know its short, and it's been a while since I posted last, but I've been swabbed with work and I finally finished it all. A few more thoughts on the HpHg vs. RwHg topic: I think that the movies are blatantly leading to the later, whether JKR is behind it or the directors I couldn't tell you. The books don't really seem to be all that biased yet, but there are a lot of hints towards Ron, but then again Harry is the one whom has a deeper connection and actually has feelings other than jealousy and anger that is.

I'll continue to write this, but I swear it doesn't have a plot anymore, just kinda me throwing stuff together on the spot. I should probably change the name cause I'm never going to get to the DA at this point, haha.


	6. Getting Together

Ch 6: Getting Together

His struggle was not in vain, he had made it to the lavatory next to Harry's room without much incident. When he finished his business he realized the struggle would be repeated just to get to the bed; he was exhausted now, but didn't want to call attention to himself. He finally pushed open the door and started for the bedroom, crawling on the floor using his hands and arms to pull his barely functioning lower body across the floor. "This is bloody rough," he said to himself as he finally got to the door.

"You could have just asked for some help," he didn't look around to see the brown eyed girl staring at him. Her voice was on the edge of cracking, he could tell she had been crying.

"The only person that I would want help from didn't come to see me, and now she's mocking me." He sighed as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed; she still hadn't moved any closer to the door.

"I'll just hurt you, like… like…" she was starting to cry again; Harry finally looked back at her. He reached his hand out for her, she hesitantly approached him. Feeling the warmth in his hand as she touched his he knew what he wanted to do, lightly tugging on her arm she stumbled into him quickly.

He gathered her up into his arms, "You didn't hurt me, I think we hurt him." Her face elevated to look into his eyes, tears were freely running down her face. The places where their skin met seemed to be on fire, but it didn't bother him he leaned down and placed his lips upon her for the second time. The same shocking pain ran through his body, but then a ice chilling feeling spiraled up his spine; his legs folded up and he pulled her closer to him.

"Your legs… you moved your legs." She gasped as they broke their kiss; the burning sensation was completely gone now, but he could feel a tingling feeling in his stomach still as he cradled her still teary face in his hands. He wiped away the water lines and kissed her face just under her eyes.

"Bloody finally," she lightly smacked his arm. "Hey! It had something to do with the kiss again; I think I'm not quite full healed…" He grinned evilly, "we should kiss some more."

She slapped his arm again before leaning up and placing another kiss on his lips, pushing her whole body on top of him; he slowly slid away from the bed towards the middle of the floor. They kissed for a while more before the door opened, but immediately slammed closed again. "Ron," Harry grunted. Should I feel bad for him? Or should I just accept that he's being a prat?

She must have sensed the struggle in his mind because she kissed his forehead and a soothing sensation enveloped his head. She helped him stand, he was still a little wobbly so they lay down on the bed again, but this time she was with him. They quickly fell asleep, her head resting on his chest and no sign of Ron.

Harry awoke the next morning with an odd weight on his chest, but quickly saw the source of his dilemma. She must have fallen asleep with me, he thought looking around the room but there was no sign of Ron still. He must have slept somewhere else; what the bloody hell am I going to tell him?

He heard footsteps approaching the door, but when it swung open it wasn't at all who he thought it would be. Mr. Weasley stood in the door way, quickly surveying the room he walked forward and sat a tray of food on the table next to Harry. He gazed over the two fully clothed teenagers on the bed; he nodded before leaving but didn't say a word. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking, but it must have been split; he'd never seen his friend's father so oddly acting.

The smell of the wonderfully cooked food hadn't escaped his or her senses. Her eyes fluttered awake, and looked right up at him as she woke up. He grinned sheepishly, "Sleep well?" She cuddled back into him before saying anything else, and even then he couldn't tell what she said with her face buried in his shoulder. "What was that? I hope you're hungry, because I won't eat this alone."

He was playing with her hair as she hugged him again, and yawned into him again. She wasn't normally the one to want to sleep in, and today was no different. After a few more yawns she was fully awake and curled up next to him taking a slice of bread from the tray. He grinned taking one as well, and they ate rather steadily neither wanting to know what would happen after breakfast.

Harry didn't know if he should say something, and Hermione sensed his thoughts and looked up at him a small smile playing on her lips. "I just want to… say… er… ask? Umm, well… would you be my girl?"

"Harry, you should bloody know the answer to that." She laughed at his face having turned a bright shade of magenta; she kissed his lips as if to end the conversation with a satisfactory answer. He couldn't have been happier, well that's not true he thought; Ron could not be mad at them for loving each other. He could feel her curl up next to him again and snuggle her head into the crook in his shoulder and neck; he could definitely get used to this feeling, he thought as he kissed the top of her head and smiled.


End file.
